The Faded Apartment
"Keep the needle steady, Santiago. Do not let it slip." The voice belonged to his father, Mateo, but the body that spoke was already stiffening in the chair by the window, the skin pulling tight over the cheekbones like wet clay over a shrinking core. Santiago, twelve years old and trembling with a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, held the tweezers. In the other...
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